


on names, their changing

by moonbeatblues



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: ALSO I JUST GOT AN ASK, AND JESTER MISTAKENLY CALLS THE PROTAGONIST OF TUSK LOVE GENEVIEVE, F/F, OUCH. OUCH., ahhh i have feelings, and being sad that someone's not always watching her, and i have feelings about jester, and not letting herself be sad, as i should be, fun fact i CALLED that, i am thinking about jester fancypants lavorre 24 goddamn 7, i wrote about it a little more on tumblr if you're interested, it was. not nice., miss regard you shouldn't have laughed, said it on tumblr but trans metaphors!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:20:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22754659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonbeatblues/pseuds/moonbeatblues
Summary: “jester,” the traveler says, and all of a sudden she realizes she’s nervous. he’s around so much less than he used to be, and something about her feels so different, feels like having to hide, feels like sickly and sad and a little lonely— it wasn’t there when they met, she doesn’t think, he liked her because she was happy and bright, a fresh candle of a girl, so that’s what she tries to show him, even if she sort of feels like she’s melting underneath.—after they kill the big awful boar thing—it’s terrifying, it gets fjord and almost gets yasha, and caduceus uses up one of his greater restorations frantically pressing his hands to fjord’s face instead of nott’s oil— unusual, for caduceus to be rash, that way— while he heals his sister, jester goes and sits by the pool, lets her feet drop into the water and swing loosely, rippling outward and scattering fish, to rest and pray for greater restoration, so she can help, too. it usually takes longer, but hopefully he’s still close by. she never thought she’d have to wonder.(two things about jester and the traveler, before and after ep. 95)
Relationships: Jester Lavorre & The Traveler, Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett
Comments: 3
Kudos: 112





	on names, their changing

“why me, though?”

it comes out a lot smaller than she’d intended, so she schools up a smile and pastes it on— “i mean, i know i’m pretty great.”

the traveler’s eyebrows— gosh, it’s so crazy how she can _see_ them, now, nott always likes to tease that he’s just a mouth in a robe but he’s got a nose and long long eyebrows and pretty black eyes, like river rocks at night, all glisteny— come together over those shiny eyes.

“jester,” he says, and all of a sudden she realizes she’s _nervous._ he’s around so much less than he used to be, and something about her feels so different, feels like having to hide, feels like sickly and sad and a little lonely— it wasn’t there when they met, she doesn’t think, he liked her because she was happy and bright, a fresh candle of a girl, so that’s what she tries to show him, even if she sort of feels like she’s melting underneath.

“i thought we would be friends— i was new to this place, i thought you could teach me how things worked and i could keep you company, but.” he runs a hand— a _hand_ , he’s got _hands_ , long and spidery like that lady in rexxentrum— through his hair, and having his whole face to guess at expressions is so _much_ , feeling the fondness from eyes and voice, it makes something warm bloom in her chest. “you just kept on being so much _more_ than i expected. you kept making me so _proud_ , and i wanted to be someone, something that you _wanted_ to make proud. something you’d be proud of, too.”

“oh.”

her eyes sting, a little. “you know what’s funny, i always hoped my dad would say that. like he’d know, somehow, when i met him, everything i’d done.” she looks up right into his face, the catlike quality of it, the curious warmth in his eyes.

“maybe i wished he was _you_ , you know? then i would know that he was proud of me. that he wanted to be around me.”

“oh, jester,” and he reaches out and hugs her, is tangible, is warm and tall and so thin but still so nice to be held by, is really _there_ , is _here_. “i am so, so proud of you. i would choose you a million times over, and then again.”

she thinks he’s going to say something about how the gentleman is trying, because she knows that he is, and she _is_ proud of him, but he doesn’t, because he knows she knows. they stand there for a while, and she thinks about how having a dad maybe doesn’t have to have anything to do with momma, maybe it can be a little like having a friend. she thinks about how the traveler shakes a little— he’s nervous, like her. wants to show her the best bits of himself, be what she wants him to be, but maybe. maybe now is the time they can just be, and go from there.

she’s crying a little, into the shoulder of his cloak. “i’m going to help you with travelercon,” she whispers, and his arms tighten, just a little. she’s lifted up onto her toes, and her voice is a little muffled, but it’s okay. “i’m so proud of you, and everyone is going to know why.”

—

it’s funny, how the little things are different, now.

jester prays in the morning to swap out spells before they meet— today’s definitely a spirit guardians sort of day, if the way worry twists onto caduceus’s face when no one’s looking is any indication— and little blue flowers sprout from between her clasped hands when she’s done.

when he appeared before, it just sort of _happened_ — one moment she was alone and the next he was looking over her shoulder, commenting on her drawing— and now, flowers. not so sneaky.

is that a thing they do, archfey, draw? is that why she likes it? is that why he likes her? _and what makes him an archfey_ , she thinks, opening her hands and letting the petals fall into her lap. _the ears? the eyebrows? they’re both_ ** _so_** _long_.

it’s the first time she’s wondered something and been sure, properly sure, that neither caleb nor caduceus nor beau would know— though maybe beau’s read about it, actually, wouldn’t it be funny if beau knew more about her own god than her? but to ask, well, then it looks like she’s got doubts, and right now, for caduceus and his family, for beau and keeping her close, for nott and whether she stays, she can’t have doubts. they need her not to.

the traveler— _artagan_ — says as much, too, that he needs her to be as solid as she has been, like underneath she isn’t crawling all over with fear and loneliness like caduceus’s beetles. and with no promise that he can even watch her.

that’s all she wanted, you know, to be watched over. for when momma couldn’t, someone who’d see her, even if they didn’t say anything. it’s funny, how the loneliness, finding out he wasn’t, compounds. she tells herself that she’s got everyone else, now, to watch her when the traveler can’t, but this cold weight still sinks low in her chest, suffocating, when everyone’s asleep. she could do anything, _has_ done anything— could walk right out, into the forest and into the garden where the clay family stands in fearful repose— and the only way they’d know is if she let them, if she made noise. they’re not watching. _no one_ is.

after they kill the big awful boar thing—it’s terrifying, it gets fjord and almost gets yasha, and caduceus uses up one of his greater restorations frantically pressing his hands to fjord’s face instead of nott’s oil— unusual, for caduceus to be rash, that way— while he heals his sister, jester goes and sits by the pool, lets her feet drop into the water and swing loosely, rippling outward and scattering fish, to rest and pray for greater restoration, so she can help, too. it usually takes longer, but hopefully he’s still close by. she never thought she’d have to wonder.

she doesn’t notice beau’s come up next to her until she speaks. more little flowers open on the surface of the water and she takes it to mean she can use the spell, now.

“he’s sorry, you know.”

she startles a bit, turns jerkily to see beau dropped gracefully next to her, knuckles bloodied from punching the armored plates. beau winces, apologetic, and nods to the flowers clinging to jester’s ankles as she kicks her feet.

“for not being what you expected. for being... less.”

beau puts both hands in the water and blood drifts from them, hazy red, staining a few petals.

“he never used to send flowers, you know. it feels like i don’t know him anymore. there were so many things i thought he was, and he’s. something else altogether.”

“well, mystery was his thing, right? if you don’t know something, it has all the momentum of every possibility. of course it’s underwhelming when you find out, because it can only be one or two of those possibilities. of course it would seem smaller.”

jester knocks her shoulder gently against beau’s.

“you’re really smart, beau, you know that?”

“thanks.”

beau scratches the back of her neck with damp fingers. “hey, uh, i’m sorry about the name thing. i was thinking about it, during the fight when i almost went down, that i’d hate for the last thing we talked about to be something that wasn’t you, and that you’d remember me laughing at you for it.”

there’s already been a lump rising in jester’s throat, and beau’s being no help. “it’s okay, i—”

“no, jes, it sucked. it was just because it was like tusk love, and because it’s not you at _all_. i wish i’d said something about how nice it was to think of little you, learning that jesters make people laugh and wanting that for yourself. wanting to make people happy. it’s what i was really thinking about.”

“oh.” she shifts a little closer on the shore of the pool. “okay.”

“you’re jester. you’ve always been jester, even when no one knew it. it’s the same with him. just give it a little while, okay? if you say what you really think, you won’t just keep feeling sad and wondering why. maybe he’ll be more honest, too.”

“you’re right,” she whispers. “they are pretty flowers.”

there’s a long beat while jester keeps kicking her feet out and back in the pool, pushing the flowers away and drawing them close again. beau lets out a long breath through her nose.

“do you wanna braid some into my hair?”

“of _course_ i want to braid some into your hair, beau,” she says, and scoops up a wet handful. “turn around.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm @seafleece on tumblr!! been yelling about jester for a few days now, check it out


End file.
